


I Hear You're Somewhere In the Sand

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Escort Service, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-07 22:18:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15917400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: Bellamy knows that the best way to deal with his plus-one for the company cruise breaking up with him would be to just tell his boss that he's not bringing anyone after all, but his boss seemed sohappythat he finally had a girlfriend, he'd really rather not.He was hoping Raven would just come with him, but when she tells him her ex-boyfriend runs an escort service and could find him someone, well, that works too, right? He could use some professional help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was hoping to get this full fic posted today, buuuut gmail ate a quarter of it and I'm too annoyed to rewrite it right now, so here's the first half and the second half will come when I give up on recovering my lost words and just redo them. Give it a couple days, I'm very annoyed.
> 
> Anyway, as the summary says, Clarke is an escort in this fic! Not shockingly, given my brand, I'm not really dealing with the industry critically and just using this as a fluff enabler, but as always be aware of what you're getting into. Also, the rating is for the second half of the fic, because gmail at least did not eat my porn.

It's Raven who says, after he outlines the problem and asks for her help, "You could hire someone."

Bellamy frowns at her. "Hire someone to what?"

"To come to the thing with you. People do that, all the time."

It still takes him a second to figure it out. "You want me to hire a hooker?"

"An escort. If you hire a hooker, they're just going to be confused when you want them to hang out on a boat instead of just having sex with you."

"Yeah, that would be the confusing part of this." He rubs his face. "You really won't do it?"

"Look, don't get me wrong, I'm sympathetic. Breakups suck, and breakups suck even more when you've got some bullshit company thing to go on. But I can't take a week off of my job to go on a cruise and pretend I'm into you. There are people who actually do this for a living, they'll be better at it and you can afford to pay."

Bellamy drums his fingers on the table. "Can I?"

"Okay, I don't actually know how much it costs, but you'd have to be compensating me for whatever I was doing too somehow, and I'd be bad at it, so it would be awkward as hell and still expensive. But I know an escort agency you can call."

"Wait, you do? How?"

"Roan."

It is, admittedly, not much of a surprise, and if she'd asked him to guess, it's probably the answer he would have come up with. Raven has a lot of weird friends, but Roan is the only one he'd peg for being involved in the escort business. He's just got that kind of vibe. "Is he involved as a customer or a professional?" he asks.

"He runs it."

"Of course he does."

"Hey, he might give you a deal. We ended things on pretty good terms, and he liked you."

"Yeah, because that wouldn't be weird."

Raven shrugs. "Honestly? It wouldn't. It's a business that he runs. This is LA, gross old dudes hire escorts every day of the week so people will think they have dates to things. I get that it's not exactly what you were planning, but unless you can find someone who has enough time off to do this with you, it's your only option other than just telling your boss that you and your girlfriend broke up. Which, by the way, is a good option and you should think about it."

"I know. But it's seriously this whole _thing_ ," he says. "Like, the boss is really fucking into work/life balance and wants us to be fulfilled outside of work. I'm not saying I'm not going to get this promotion if he finds out I'm single, but if he does then this whole cruise is going to be about my breakup and not my job. Which would defeat the whole point of going on the cruise. At least for me."

"So then call Roan. Tell him what's going on and he'll tell you if he can do it and how much it's going to cost. You're not going to be any worse off if you decide not to do it," she adds. "Might as well find out the options."

"And you can't do it."

"Sorry, but I really can't. A night or two? Sure, no problem. But I don't have the vacation time for a week off, and honestly, even if I did? I wouldn't really want to use that many hours doing you a favor that sounds like actual torture."

He feels his mouth twitch. "Yeah, okay. I wouldn't want to either. But hiring an escort feels like--"

"It's the way you can get a date for a whole week, one who will actually make you look good and talk you up. You don't have to do it, but I'm pretty sure it's that or telling the truth."

"Yeah, you're right." He lets out a slow breath. "Roan still have the same number?"

"Yup."

"Cool," he says. "Good talk."

*

Bellamy spends about ten minutes before he actually calls Roan debating if he can convince Echo to just pretend they didn't break up and come on this the cruise with him, since she _did_ agree to it while they were still dating, but he finds that even if she said yes, he wouldn't really want her to come with him. It would be too weird and stressful, going back to dating her after months after they broken up. It feels like the plot of a romantic comedy that ends with the two of them back together, and Bellamy doesn't actually want that.

So he takes a deep breath and dials Roan's number..

He didn't _dislike_ Roan, really. He was one of Raven's better boyfriends, for all he was kind of eccentric and weird. He treated Raven well and was pretty hilarious. He still never would have wanted to call the guy up to ask about escort services, but that's not really _personal_. There's no one he wants to call up and ask about that. This is something he would prefer to never do.

"Bellamy," says Roan, picking up on the first ring. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"Raven told me you run an escort service?" Despite his best efforts, it comes out as a question.

"I do. Are you in need of an escort?"

"Maybe." Roan doesn't respond, and Bellamy sighs, rubs his face. "Okay, so--I have a company cruise next month. When we signed up, I said I was bringing my girlfriend and my boss was really excited to meet her. He thought I work too hard and he was glad I had time for a relationship. But my girlfriend and I broke up and I'm worried if I just tell him that, it's actually going to hurt my career."

"Unfortunate, but understandable. So you'd like to hire someone to pose as your girlfriend on the trip?"

"I wanted Raven to do it, but she doesn't have the vacation time or the personality type. And Miller might be willing, but my boss knows I was dating a woman, so--"

"I can send you prices and some profiles," says Roan. "Why don't you tell me a little bit more about the company and the event, so I can try to find someone who's a good fit?"

Once he's doing it, it's easier than Bellamy expected to just open up about the whole thing. The cruise is an annual tradition, which Charles claims is a "perk," but most of the employees--Bellamy included--see it as a kind of necessary evil, like getting fillings done at the dentist. He's been at Pike and Associates for four years now, and this will be his third cruise, since he got out of the one two years ago because he had to go to a wedding. He's never brought a significant other to one, and he'd definitely always felt it, this obvious _lack_ of having a person with him. It was a family event, and he didn't have a family to bring.

"Any preferences for the girl?" Roan asks, once he's gotten all the details. "Does anyone at work know anything about her? Will she have to use a different name?"

The question is so creepy his skin actually crawls. "Do people do that? Use different names?"

"Think of it as an acting position. It's easier for everyone if the escorts can just use their own names or choose their aliases, but if they can't, it's not a big deal. Sometimes, someone has made up a significant other and already came up with a profile, so we'll match it."

"Jesus. No, I just said girlfriend. No demographic information, no name. She's registered as my plus one, with no dietary restrictions."

"Perfect. I'll get you the profiles and estimated costs by the end of the day, and you can let me know which one you'd like to work with. Once you've decided, someone from the company will be in touch to get payment sorted out. It will be half up front, half on successful completion of the assignment."

"That's all?"

"It's going to be expensive," says Roan. "But it's not complicated. We do this every day."

"You do, but it's new for me." 

"Well, don't worry. We'll take good care of you."

"Thanks, I think."

He can hear Roan's stupid smirk. "My pleasure."

*

Roan sends him profiles for three escorts, which sounded good when he offered, but now is actually terrible. All three women seem fine; they're gorgeous, and the descriptions make them sound like they'd be good at what he needs. They have experience with long-term assignments, can bullshit their way through legal conversations, and the price is high, but honestly not as high as he thought it would be for a full week of a stranger's time.

"Hey, can you help me with something?" he asks Miller, and then realizes, "No, you probably can't."

"Wow, I don't even need to be in this conversation."

He sighs. "I'm hiring an escort to pretend to be my girlfriend on this stupid cruise."

"Wait, stop, rewind. _What_? Since when?"

"Since yesterday, when Raven said she wouldn't do it. I know it's fucked up, okay? You don't have to tell me. But I told Charles I had a girlfriend coming with me, and I don't have a girlfriend anymore, so--"

"You guys broke up, what, three months ago? Why didn't you just cancel?"

"I was hoping I'd meet someone else or die first."

"Dude."

"I know." He rubs his face. "Look, I bring someone this year, and then next year we either broke up or I've found someone else. But this way, Charles won't just think I was lying about my girlfriend existing in the first place. Which I wasn't."

"So, you're picking out an escort."

"Yeah."

Miller sits down next to him. "What are the options?"

Bellamy feels his mouth twitch a little. "You're going to help?"

"I'm going to give feedback." He frowns. "Why aren't you just doing the cheapest one?"

"It's just a couple hundred bucks' difference," says Bellamy, with a shrug. "When I'm already paying this much, that doesn't feel like a good deciding factor."

"It's as good of one as any. Do you not like the cheapest girl?"

Bellamy takes another look at the pictures. There isn't much difference between the three girls; two seem to be white and the other is latina, and the difference in price between them is less than five hundred dollars. On the one hand, it's a lot of money, but on the other--

"I should just get her, right?"

"Is there one you actually like?"

"Jesus, of course not." 

"Not to actually _date_. But if you've got a good feeling about one of them, don't overthink it. There isn't a good deciding factor, so just go with whichever one you like most."

"Her," he admits, picking up the profile for a woman named Clarke. She's one of the white girls, blonde and blue-eyed, a few inches shorter than he is. Her profile says that she has experience mingling with lawyers and that in her spare time she paints and gets into fights on twitter. It's not a lot, but it's not like he _has_ a lot, for any of them. It's just enough to give him a good feeling.

"So go with her."

"Just like that?"

"You want to write up pros and cons? You've got three choices and you like one more than the others. Go with her."

"When you put it like that." He sighs. "How bad an idea is this? Like, scale of one to ten."

"Thirty. But you're doing it, so who cares? There isn't one of these options that's secretly not fucked up. Just pick one and drink the whole time you're on the cruise."

"That sounds right." He nods, making up his mind. He's doing this, and he's doing this his way, which is apparently hiring Clarke to be his fake girlfriend for a week. "It might be a forty. On the bad idea scale."

"Probably, yeah. But that's not going to stop you."

"Nope," he says, pulling out his phone to text Roan. "I'm doing this."

***

"Okay, so I need you to--"

"Feed the cat, empty the litter box every other day, water the plants on Thursday," says Monty, smiling. "I know the drill by now."

She gives him a sheepish smile. "Sorry. Just--a whole week. It's a long time."

"Which is why you're paying me this time. Seriously, I don't mind. Are you okay? You seem kind of nervous for someone who's going on a cruise."

"It's for work." Monty doesn't know all or even most of what Clarke actually does for a living, but he knows that she travels a lot and does theoretically fun things that aren't actually fun because they're for her job.

And it's not a bad job, in most ways. She doesn't have to have sex with anyone, and just kissing and being arm candy isn't that hard. Sometimes she meets cool people, sometimes she doesn't, but she's never had a truly awful client. Roan vets everyone, and he vouched for Bellamy Blake personally, as an actual _friend_.

Still, if he sucks, it might be a pain to get away. They'll be on the boat for a week; it's a long time to be stuck with a total stranger.

"I don't love going on trips alone, I won't know anyone there."

"Yeah, that would make me pretty anxious. But you don't have to worry about your cat!" he says, clapping his hands together. "And if you need someone to call you with a fake emergency, just text. I'm pretty much always on my phone."

"Thanks, I appreciate it. And the cat sitting. You're an awesome neighbor."

"As are you. I really like feeling like someone in my building would notice if I died."

"Same. Call me if anything happens."

"The cat and I will be fine. Call me if you need someone to pretend to be a hospitalized relative."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," she says, like the conviction in her voice can make it true. "But yeah. I'll keep you on speed dial."

*

According to the profile she got from Roan, Bellamy Blake is 32, a junior attorney at his firm, and he and his girlfriend broke up a few months before they were supposed to go on the company cruise together, which is why he's hiring an escort. He's also friends with one of Roan's exes, which is how they know each other in the first place, and apparently the only reason it occurred to Bellamy to hire someone. As client histories go, it's all pretty encouraging.

Still, Clarke's pretty much a nervous mess waiting to meet him for lunch. It was his idea to get together first, before they get on the cruise, to get a feel for one another. He's not her first client to make the request, but the guys who want to do that tend to either be considerate or control freaks, and she can't tell which Bellamy is sight unseen.

Well, okay, she has seen him; Roan provided a picture. But just because he's attractive doesn't mean he can't be a dick. In her experience, the hot ones are more likely to be assholes, actually; they have some shitty ego about how they shouldn't have to be hiring an escort, like they think she should feel lucky to be seen with them. Roan's generally got decent taste, but things can always go wrong.

Bellamy, to his credit, doesn't make her wait long. She's barely given her name at the hostess stand before she hears a rough voice asking, "Clarke?"

She turns and there he is, more attractive in person the way that celebrities sometimes are, better when his smile curves his lips up and brightens his eyes. He's got freckles scattered over his cheeks and his hair is longer than it was in the picture she saw, curly and thick, with a pair of glasses instead of the contacts he must have had in before.

She pastes on her best new-client smile. "Hi, you must be Bellamy." She turns her attention back to the hostess. "This is the rest of my party."

"Perfect," says the woman. "Right this way."

Once they're seated, Clarke waits for Bellamy to speak first, taking the time to study him instead. He's dressed casually, a plain t-shirt and jeans with a fray at the knee that he can't stop toying with. His hands are large and broad, a little distracting, and it's not enough to make her like him, but it's a decent first impression.

"So, uh--hi," he finally says.

"Hi."

"I'm Bellamy." He stops playing with the thread on his jeans to offer his hand. "Nice to finally meet you."

"You too."

"I thought, uh--I just thought it would be good to get our stories straight before we started talking to anyone else. And to make sure there wasn't anything you needed me to know about--I've never done this before."

He seems genuinely worried, and Clarke smiles, letting him off the hook a little. "Breathe. You'll be fine. People don't tend to suspect anyone's hired an escort in real life, so we probably aren't going to have any problems if we mess our stories up. Roan said you had a girlfriend you were supposed to bring, but the two of you broke up?"

"Yeah. It's been about four months now. It was one of those--it felt like it could have gone on indefinitely, I guess, but I also didn't feel like that was really _it_. So when she broke up with me--" He shrugs. "It was a surprise because I wasn't expecting it _then_ , not because I didn't think it could happen. And then my boss was talking about the cruise and I realized I didn't have a date for it anymore."

"And you needed a date for a company cruise?"

He sighs. "I know it sounds weird, but--Charles Pike, he's the named partner. He's really dedicated to treating his employees well, which is great, don't get me wrong. But I didn't know he was worried about me specifically. He was so glad when I said I had a girlfriend I could bring to this, and the closer it got, the more he asked about her. So now if I don't--"

"If you don't then he finds out you don't have a life."

"I have a life," he grumbles, without any heat. "Just not the kind of life Charles wants me to have right now. If I bring a girlfriend this time and then tell him we broke up in a few months, at least he won't think I was making the whole thing up."

"So you're hiring a fake girlfriend to convince him you once had a real girlfriend."

"Which I did." He sighs. "You don't have to tell me it's fucked up, my best friend already did. I would have just had him do it, if he could pass for a girlfriend, but--"

"You wouldn't have minded that?" Clarke asks, surprised. "Pretending to have a boyfriend?"

He shifts a little, awkward. "I'm pansexual, so no. Gender's not a thing for me."

As it always does, finding out someone is queer instantly boosts her opinion of them, and Clarke feels herself relaxing a little. "Nice. I'm bi, so I get it."

His smile comes back. "Cool."

"Okay, so--logistics. Does your boss know how long you and your girlfriend have been together?"

"Not really? I told him it had been a few months when I first mentioned her, and that was a few months before we broke up. Everything was pretty vague."

"How long were you actually together?"

"About six months."

"And you broke up four months ago?"

"Yeah."

The waiter comes by for their orders, and Bellamy is both polite and nice, more points in his favor. So far, so good.

"Okay, so--do you want to keep the same story you had with your ex? Like how we met, all that?"

He makes a face. "Not really. That feels kind of shitty."

"Shitty?"

"I don't know. Like I'm stealing from her. It was her life too, not just mine."

Clarke hides a smile in her coffee. "Okay, no problem. Some people just find that easier to remember."

"I was thinking we could just say we met through friends. It's kind of true, Roan and I are--friendly."

"Wow," she teases. "That sounded really convincing."

"We don't see each other much since he and Raven broke up, but I like him fine."

"That sounds good. Been together for like nine months?"

"Sure. We should maybe pick a date, in case anyone asks."

Usually, she can tell clients that no one will care about that, that they won't have to field that many specific questions, but this is actually the longest assignment she's ever been on, and with coworkers. They'll probably have a lot of small talk, and someone might push for more information than usual.

"Got any dates you like?"

He taps his jaw. "Nine months ago was February?"

"Yeah."

"February 12 was my dad's birthday," he says.

"Was?" It sounds rude once she's said it, so she gives him a smile. "Sorry, family stuff is good for me to know."

"He died when I was three. My mom remarried when I was five and had my sister Octavia a year later." He clears his throat, awkward. "I, uh--it's kind of complicated."

"You don't have to tell me. It's mostly if your coworkers know and it's going to be weird if I fuck something up."

"They know I have a sister and we used to be close, but I haven't seen her in a while. I kind of had to help raise her, after her dad left. And then, uh--right after college, my mom died, and I got custody of her."

"So you were twenty-two, and she was sixteen?"

"Yeah. It was just two years, but it was rough for her. Both of us, but--" He shrugs. "I got her through college and she bailed after. I don't really blame her."

"Bailed how?"

"She hugged me after graduation, told me she loved me and appreciated everything I did, and then the next day she'd just left a note saying she needed to be on her own and live her own life."

Clarke can't help a wince, but Bellamy is staring at his coffee with the kind of focus that should crack the mug. "That sucks," she says, inadequately.

"It's better, the last few years. She's got a cell phone that I can actually call now. But she's up in Alaska, living off the land, and she never wants me to come visit."

"If I was going to live off the land, I'd do it somewhere warm."

He lets out a small huff of laughter, and the triumph curls in Clarke's chest. "Right?" He clears his throat. "What about you? Your family?"

Ordinarily, this would be where she gave him the _my life doesn't matter_ spiel, but he's clearly feeling awkward, so she takes pity on him.

"Not much to tell. Only child. My dad died when I was seventeen, my mom remarried when I was in college."

"You went to college?" he asks, clearly surprised, and then winces. "Sorry, not--that sounded bad."

Clarke's regretting saying it too. It's not really a lot of information about herself, but it's more than she usually gives, already too much of herself. "No, it's fine. No college wants to brag that one of their alums is working as an escort."

"At least you're employed," he says, with a small smile. "Okay, so--that's a good question. Do you have a backstory you like to use? About what you do and where you're from. I guess that's more important than your real life."

"I like to stay kind of close to the truth, it's easier to remember. I usually say I'm an illustrator. It's less--when you say _artist_ , people think they'll see your stuff in museums. If I say I do illustrations for textbooks and stuff, no one really asks follow-up questions. But this is probably going to be a little different."

"Yeah?"

"It's a weeklong cruise, with a lot of people you're close to."

"Roan said you had experience with long-term assignments."

"This will be my longest. And the most--I did a long weekend for a wedding, and there was plenty of time there where I wasn't really--on the clock, I guess? We didn't have wedding stuff to do all the time."

Bellamy nods. "Yeah, I get that. But on a boat--"

"I'm good with it, but I just wanted to make sure you knew, this is kind of new for me too. So I'm not going to be perfect."

"Don't worry about it." He smiles, pushes his glasses up from where they've slid down his nose. "I know it's going to be weird, but we can probably deal with it, right? People don't know everything about their real significant others."

"Definitely not."

"There is one thing, though."

"Yeah?"

"Last name."

She laughs. "Oh, yeah. I usually don't need one. Garfield."

"You came up with that fast."

"I'm a professional."

His mouth twists, and she knows, from long experience, that he wants to ask for the truth, that he wants to know if she's _real_. For all people understand that they're paying for a fantasy, they don't really _want_ to. It's the _Pretty Woman_ effect; everyone wants to be the special one who wins over the person who isn't supposed to be won.

But Bellamy doesn't actually ask. "Okay, so--anything else? What are we forgetting?"

"Tell me about your coworkers," she says. "The ones I would have heard about."

He leans forward, focused as he starts to sketch out the people she's going to meet, and Clarke has to smile. She _does_ like him, so far. Maybe this week won't be so bad.

The feeling lasts through the drive to the ship, through boarding and introductions to the coworkers he's already told her about, through meeting the boss, right up until Charles Pike says, "And Bellamy, I don't think you've met Marcus. Marcus Kane, this is Bellamy Blake and Clarke--" He frowns. "I didn't get your last name."

"Griffin," says Marcus, his expression unreadable as he looks at her. "Good to see you, Clarke."

Her mouth works without input from her brain. "You too, Marcus. It's been so long."

Bellamy and Charles are looking lost, but Clarke doesn't actually have any idea how to manage the situation. It's always a possibility, meeting someone she knows on a job, someone who knows the _real_ her, and maybe she should have been more careful, with a law firm, but she'd done her research. She couldn't find any connection between Charles Pike and Marcus Kane.

Apparently she didn't look hard enough.

"Clarke is my stepdaughter," Marcus supplies, into the stretching silence.

"Is she? Then it's even more of a shame your wife couldn't make it," says Charles, and Clarke lets out an involuntary breath. It's just him, not Abby. One fewer person to manage.

"A shame," Marcus agrees. He's still watching her. But then he turns his attention to Bellamy. "I'm sorry, you were--one of the junior associates?"

Bellamy smiles, bright and friendly, but with this kind of discomfort that actually works for the situation. The awkwardness is off the charts, it would be weird if he was too comfortable. "I am. It's a pleasure to meet you. Clarke's--told me about you."

The giggle she swallows is a little hysterical. What _would_ she have told him, if they'd been dating for nine months? What would he know?

What's she going to have to tell him now?

"We need to go find our cabin," Bellamy goes on. "I want to get settled in. But it was nice to meet you, Marcus. I'm looking forward to getting to know you better."

"Same," says Marcus, but he's still watching Clarke. "Can't wait."

***

"Do we need to leave?"

Bellamy's first impulse was to apologize, but he doesn't actually have a thing to apologize for. He didn't know any more than she did, couldn't have warned her. He gave her a rundown of the people she'd meet and Marcus Kane wasn't on his list.

"Of course not," says Clarke, shaking her head. "I wouldn't make you--"

"Clarke," he says, gentle. "You didn't sign up for this. This is a huge change in the job, I'm not expecting you to just roll with it. You aren't supposed to be lying to your family. I can fake an emergency, you can--"

There's a calculating look in her eyes when they meet his that makes his voice die in his throat. "This could be good. If you're willing to--if you don't mind."

"If _I_ don't mind?"

"This isn't about me. I'm not supposed to be--the whole point of hiring an escort is to not have to deal with real drama, and I'm bringing it straight to you."

"The whole point for me was avoiding having a conversation with my boss," he teases, but he sobers up fast. "What do you need me to do?"

Clarke sits down on the side of the bed, and Bellamy takes the chair nearby. At some point, they will be sharing that bed, but he can give her space for now. Until they've finished this conversation and figured out where they're going.

"Like I said, my mom and Marcus got married when I was in college. Sophomore year. I wasn't--I didn't do that well with it. Nothing personal, Marcus is a good guy, but it hadn't even been three years since my dad died. I couldn't believe she was already moving on. If I'd been older, it would have been different, but as it was--we already hadn't been getting along, and then she got married and it drove us further apart."

"Okay."

"And then--I was pre-med in school. My mom's a doctor, she wanted me to be a doctor too, and I didn't change my mind because of everything that happened, but I finished college and I realized I had no idea what I wanted to do. My mom thought I was going straight to med school, and we had this huge fight when she figured out I hadn't applied anywhere. I told her I wasn't ready, and she gave me a year to figure myself out before she cut me off."

"Jesus," he says. "Seriously?"

"I kind of get it. Not--my mom has always thought that sometimes you have to do what's right for the people you love, even if it hurts them. She thought that if she gave me an ultimatum, it would make me get my life on track. But it didn't work."

The snarky asshole part of him wants to say that was obvious, but it feels too mean. And, if he's honest, he doesn't get the impression that Clarke's life is _bad_. Not that he has much of a sense of it, and there's probably always going to be a level on which being an escort is a sign of failure. But she seems pretty good, even with this new wrinkle in things.

"So she cut you off?"

"I told her I wanted to be an artist, and she said that wasn't a career. I think she was expecting a few months of living on my own would make me change my mind, but I'm too stubborn."

He has to smile; it's been less than twenty-four hours, but that's already not a surprise. "When did you start doing the escort thing?"

"I've known Roan since we were kids. I was waiting tables, but I was complaining to him about how it didn't pay me well enough or give me enough time for art. He asked if I thought I'd like escorting, and I kind of had trouble imagining it, but it seemed like it was worth a try. And it was--fine. I did theater in high school and college and it was kind of like that, figuring out a role and playing it. I do this part-time and take online commissions and I'm pretty good. But it's not like--" She smiles with one side of her mouth. "I can't tell my mom that I get a decent amount of money from tumblr commissions and supplement it working as an escort. So we just don't really talk."

"So Marcus isn't going to be surprised you have a boyfriend he's never heard of."

"No. I was there for Christmas, so--we would have started dating after that. And he knows how awkward we are." She lets out a breath. "I'm sorry."

"Seriously, you don't have anything to apologize for." He hesitates, but stands, sits down next to her. "If you want to leave, we can. If I have an excuse to leave my awkward cruise--"

"I think that would be worse. For everyone."

"Probably. So what do you need me to do?"

"Just--don't be an asshole after this. You're going to know a lot about me, by the end. Way more than my clients usually do. So don't make me get a restraining order."

"That's it?"

"You should say I'm an artist and work as a waitress part-time to help with bills," she says. "That's what I told Mom and Marcus. My mom's name is Abby Griffin, she's the head of oncology at Arcadia Medical. Charles probably knows her too."

"What do you think Marcus is telling him?"

"Good question." She flops back on the bed. "It's not like he wants to air the family dirty laundry here. If I were him, I'd say that I was already at college when he and my mom got married, so we've never been that close, but of course he's happy to see me. And then he's probably going to call my mom."

"Sorry."

She smiles up at him. "It's not like you could have known. I'm sorry you have to deal with this."

"Honestly, it's probably less stressful than just going on the cruise," he says without thinking.

At least she laughs. "Seriously?"

"I do better worrying about other people."

"You don't need to worry about me," she says, but there's a smile playing around her mouth. "I don't think Marcus is going to figure out what's actually happening."

"Okay, not worry about, but--focus on. Something other than how awkward everything is for me."

"So, you worry about how awkward it is for me, I worry about how awkward it is for you?" Clarke asks.

"That way everyone's covered."

"Something like that."

"Does this change anything for you?" he asks. "Aside from the job. Anything different I should be doing?"

"No."

He wets his lips. "Okay, uh--one more thing."

"Yeah?"

"Physical affection."

"Oh."

"I assume you have some guidelines about that."

"Yeah. Touching is fine. No public groping or anything, but arm around my shoulders, pecks on the mouth or cheeks. I tend to be conservative with PDA, so--nothing you'd be uncomfortable doing with a boyfriend on the street?"

The distinction makes sense, but he has to smile. "What do you do when you're explaining that to straight people?"

"Depends on the event, but I usually go with bases. If we're at a party or something, it's different, I expect some making out and groping. But it didn't really feel like you were hiring me to show off how far you could go with a cute girl."

"No. Honestly, I'd like to avoid that. I don't really want anyone I work with knowing anything about my sex life."

"Fair enough. Kissing is okay, no tongue. And nothing under the clothes."

"Got it. I'm mostly, uh--I like holding hands, arm around your shoulders or waist. In public, anyway."

"That's fine. And if I feel like we need to be more demonstrative, I can take the lead. If I do something first, you're okay to do it. Do you have any lines I shouldn't cross?"

"As long as we're doing what everyone else is doing, I'm fine. I just don't want to stand out."

"Got it. So--want to go check out the rest of the ship?"

"No more notes for me with your stepdad?"

She flashes him a grin. "Make me look good?"

"I'll see what I can do."

*

Bellamy will admit he doesn't totally get cruises, not when you're actually rich. Growing up, his family went on a lot of destination vacations, traveling to places where you paid a flat rate to have access to a bunch of generic facilities, and it was fun, but he always wanted to go to _places_ , to experience local culture and history. When he takes vacations these days, that's what he does; he's been back to the Philippines to see where his father was from, gone to Europe to check out the ruins of the civilizations he loved reading about as a kid. He wouldn't mind visiting Central America for the indigenous ruins and landscape either, but that's not really how cruises work. They're heading down the coast, visiting a few places in Mexico, and while he can visit the historic parts of the cities, it's not the same as really spending time there.

But it's also not really a _vacation_ ; as a work obligation, there are worse ways to spend a week. The ship is large and has a decent number of amenities, and the company pays for the base trip plus a few amenities. He's absolutely not complaining just because he's getting an awesome perk he wouldn't have chosen for himself.

And, to his surprise, it's Clarke's first time on a cruise.

"My dad didn't like boats," she explains as they check out the shops. "He said he was exposed to the _Titanic_ story too young and never recovered."

Bellamy snorts. "So all giant boats are doomed to sink."

"It was his hangup, not mine. We took plenty of cool vacations, just not cruises, so it's not like I was deprived. But this is new for me."

"Glad I can broaden your horizons."

Clarke drifts closer, slides her hand into his, leaning her head on his cheek for a second before straightening. It's easy, casual affection, convincing, and he has no idea if anyone he works with can see them, but it's not like it's a bad idea to get in the habit of staying close. They're supposed to be a couple all the time.

"So, do you have favorite things to do on cruises? You've been on a few, right?"

"Yeah, but I've never brought anyone before. Most of my activities are kind of anti-social."

"Like what?"

"Sitting by the pool catching up on my reading, mostly."

"Seriously? There are a billion things to do. It's actually kind of overwhelming, how much is happening here."

"I do other stuff," he says, giving her hand a mostly involuntary squeeze. "But it's mostly when my coworkers are doing something. Like, they're going to the casino or a show, and I'll go along with them, but it's mostly their idea."

"It was probably kind of weird being alone, right? Especially if most of your coworkers were bringing significant others."

"Yeah. And I wasn't really looking to hook up, which some people were."

Clarke pulls a face. "Who wants to hook up on a work trip? With your boss around?"

"Right? I know Charles isn't going to the clubs watching to see people flirting, but still."

"Okay, so--now you have me. What kind of stuff do you want to do here with your girlfriend?"

It's a pretty good question. Having someone with him--even just a friend, even just a new acquaintance--changes the way the whole trip looks. He hadn't thought much about what it would be like, doing this with Echo, but he'd been excited by the idea of having _someone_ , of not feeling as if he was here without any real allies.

"Whatever my girlfriend wanted to do."

"Wow, what a cop-out."

"You're the one who's never been on a cruise before. Was there anything you were looking forward to? Anything that seemed cool?"

He regrets the question almost as soon as he's asked it. Clarke probably wasn't particularly excited for this _before_ she found out her semi-estranged stepfather was also on board. Of course she doesn't have an itinerary; this is even less of a vacation for her than it is for him.

But if she's offended, she shows no sign of it. "How much of our booze is covered?"

"Not enough, but Charles covers two drinks per day per person."

"I should have gone to law school."

"I don't know if I recommend it."

"No?"

He shrugs. "If you like it, you like it. I picked it because I wanted to not be poor anymore and I could make the funding work. It's good and I'm happy, but it's not exactly my passion."

"Passion can be overrated. If I didn't know I could always go back and tell my mom I changed my mind and needed her help, I don't know if I would have been able to try making it as an artist."

Bellamy glances around, making sure they're fairly private. There are people around, of course, but no one he knows, no one who cares about them.

"Can I ask about the art?" he asks. "What you actually do, I mean. If the answer is no, that's cool--"

"I don't mind."

"You said you did tumblr commissions, right? How does that work?"

Clarke is interesting and engaging to talk to, which he feels like an asshole for not really expecting. It wasn't like he thought she'd be _boring_ , really, he just wasn't sure how much they'd really have in common. It was hard to predict, based on just the profile he'd seen of her, how they'd actually get along. But she's smart and passionate, even eager when she lets herself be. She started off with fanart, gathering a following before she started posting some of her original characters, branching out, and while it's not enough to make a living, she's working on doing some graphic novel stuff with a friend, which seems pretty awesome.

He realizes her stepfather must be around the second her face closes off, and he's looking for Marcus Kane before he's even fully processed that's what's happening. He's with Charmaine Diyoza, one of the partners, but his eyes are fixed on Clarke, his expression curious.

"We don't have to talk to him," Bellamy says.

"We will at some point," she says, her mouth twitching a little. "The boat is big, but I don't think we can actually avoid him all week."

"It doesn't have to be right now."

"No, but only one witness is probably about as good as it gets." She squeezes his hand once and then she's tugging him to the bar, and all he can do is hope that he doesn't fuck it up.

Marcus has a fruity drink, which is one of those weird things that improves Bellamy's opinion of a person. Some men won't order cocktails because they think they're for women, and while there's no real way of telling if someone is having scotch on the rocks because they like it or because of toxic masculinity, Marcus's drink is neon enough that Bellamy has to respect it.

"Hey, sorry we took off earlier," Clarke says, smiling.

"No need to apologize. I wasn't expecting you either. Charmaine, you must know Bellamy. This is his girlfriend and my stepdaughter, Clarke Griffin."

Bellamy likes Diyoza in the same way he likes depressing prestige movies; he's glad they exist, knows they're important, but doesn't really want to interact with them. He's happiest when Diyoza is ignoring him, and right now she's looking at him like he's a three-course meal of fun gossip.

It helps only marginally when she shifts her focus to Clarke. "Nice to meet you. I've worked with your mother a few times, she didn't mention you had any connections to the firm."

"I didn't tell her I did," says Clarke, smooth. "We don't talk much."

Marcus takes a deliberate sip of his cocktail. "What are the two of you up to?"

"Just exploring. It's my first time on a cruise ship. Are you thinking of joining the firm?" 

It hadn't occurred to Bellamy how weird that would be, if Marcus actually started _working with him_. Maybe he can just say that the whole cruise experience was so awkward, he and Clarke broke it off after they got home. So far, it seems like everyone would buy it.

"Thinking about it, yes," says Marcus. "And I was looking for an excuse to take a vacation. Can I get the two of you a drink?"

Clarke checks the menu and orders, and Bellamy does too, and somehow the heavy mood just--lifts, like storm clouds blowing over.

"You're really good at this, huh?" Bellamy murmurs, when Diyoza and Marcus are getting another round, and Clarke pecks him on the cheek.

"Almost like it's my job."

***

 **Mom** : Marcus says you're on his cruise  
I'm sorry I can't be there  
Unfortunately, I'm at a conference 

To her surprise, Clarke finds herself, as soon as she's finished reading her mother's messages, turning to look at Bellamy, wanting to show him. But he's still asleep, curled away from her on his side of the giant bed, breathing slow and even, and she can't bring herself to disturb him.

He's pretty good, as clients go. Especially given all the complications.

She rolls out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake him by getting up but also not wanting to wake him by dealing with her texts next to him, and goes to sit on the couch instead, studying her phone. Abby sent the messages just after five, which Clarke hopes means that her conference is on the east coast and not that she woke up at the crack of dawn because she was stressing about this. The last thing she wants is Abby losing sleep over her.

The messages themselves are typical, the usual awkward tone, plus the odd implication that Clarke would be disappointed Abby wasn't there, like she'd requested her presence, but she's pretty sure that wasn't the intention. Abby probably wrote and rewrote them, trying to be friendly but not too aggressive, working so hard to find the perfect words and still not getting there.

"Everything okay?"

Bellamy's voice is raspy, thick with sleep. He's propped up on his elbows, glasses askew, hair a mess, and Clarke's mouth actually goes a little dry. He's not her first attractive client, but he's the most attractive client she's had that she actually gets along with. And he's kind of a lot early in the morning.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."

"You didn't," he says, with a huge yawn. "I was already awake, just didn't want to get up yet. Did something happen?"

She bites the corner of her mouth but goes to sit next to him again, handing him the phone. "Texts from my mom."

He makes a face, but his tone is neutral. "Huh."

"I don't think she's trying to--this is the problem with talking to her. We do fine in person, but every time she texts me it feels like I'm in trouble for something I didn't do. Like me and Marcus planned this trip trying to exclude her or something."

"So that's not on purpose?"

"I don't think so. But I don't really know what to say."

He hands the phone back. "Something about how it was such a surprise to see him, maybe?"

"Maybe." Her conscience gets the better of her, and she flashes him a smile. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"This really isn't the experience you're supposed to be paying for. I'll tell Roan to give you a discount."

He flops back, stretching. "At some point, you really need to stop apologizing for this. You didn't do anything wrong. And I'll try to stop too," he adds. "Were both just doing our best with all of this. And we're on the same side."

It's a somewhat staggering thought, but he's not _wrong_. "I'll try to remember that. How does this sound? _Yeah, it was a total surprise! Bellamy didn't know Marcus was thinking about joining up!_ "

The pause as he thinks it over is longer than she was expecting. "You want to tell your mom that?" he finally asks. "About me, I mean."

"Marcus already did. I assume we'll just tell them we broke up at some point. It's more complicated than usual and I'm--" He raises his eyebrows, and she shuts her mouth on the apology. "Going to deal with it, the same as you are."

He grins. "You are. I'm pretty sure there's a breakfast buffet, you want in?"

"Let me just send this text."

The ship is still kind of weird and overwhelming, but Clarke's getting somewhat more used to it, and it's at least kind of novel. Bellamy is good company, which is nice, and Marcus and Bellamy's coworkers being around add a little excitement, this weird kind of low stakes game that she doesn't actually think she'll lose. There's always a chance someone will figure out the whole escort thing, but the odds are slim, and she thinks they actually dealt with the Marcus awkwardness as well as they could. It's not like a real significant other would have done much better.

She slides her hand back into his as they walk, and he shoots her a smile, squeezes her fingers. It's actually pretty nice.

They get to the dining room and grab food from the buffet, Bellamy scanning the tables when they're done and finding a couple of his associates who are closer to their age range. Clarke doesn't actually remember their names--she met them before they saw Marcus and that kind of derailed her brain--but Bellamy fills her in.

"The one with that tattoo is Emori, she's another associate. That's her husband, John, but everyone else calls him Murphy. He's kind of a dick, but you get used to him. And that's Lincoln, a paralegal, and Luna, a partner. They're all pretty chill."

The greetings she gets from Lincoln, Luna, and Emori all are, as Bellamy said, pretty chill, but then John/Murphy fulfills his own destiny of being a dick with, "Heard you guys have some awkward shit going on."

Bellamy snorts. "Thanks for noticing. Did any of you know about Marcus Kane? This is the first I heard about him maybe joining the firm. Which sucks, it caught us totally by surprise."

"Charles mentioned it to me, but not in any great detail," says Lincoln. "And obviously I didn't know it was of interest to you."

"Yeah, I wasn't really upset I didn't get a head's up, just curious if I missed it or if no one told me."

Emori leans forward, curious."No one told me either. He's really your stepfather?"

Clarke smiles. "Yeah. And my mom and I don't really get along, so this is the first time I've seen him since Christmas."

"Wow, awkward," says Murphy, who, after just two sentences, has already demonstrated why people call him by his last name.

"Exactly what I was imagining for the first time I met my boyfriend's coworkers," Clarke agrees. "Definitely my dream cruise."

Right on cue, her phone buzzes with another text from her mother-- _Bellamy is your boyfriend? You haven't mentioned him_.

At least they're already talking about this; it's not like her complaining will change the subject.

"My mom says I didn't tell her you existed," she tells Bellamy, and he snorts.

"Good that she noticed." He presses his lips to her shoulder, an odd, warm kind of affection that she finds she likes. For all she's always supposed to be in long-term relationships, most of her clients aren't good at pretending, or are more interested in her being a trophy than a person. From Bellamy, the gesture feels supportive. "Do you need to text her back, or are you going to leave her hanging?"

 _I'll let you know if he's coming for Christmas_ , she texts, and stows her phone. After all, she _is_ doing a job, and that job is being an awesome girlfriend for Bellamy, not overthinking messages to her mother. "She's supposed to be at a conference, she should be focusing on that. And we should be focusing on having an awesome vacation. What are you guys up to today?"

Murphy and Emori want to go to the casino, which makes sense based on what little Clarke knows about them, while Luna apparently just spends basically all of her time in the pool, and Lincoln wants to go to the spa. 

No wonder Bellamy doesn't ever have much to do on these; Clarke's sure he's happy spending a few hours in the casino or the spa or the pool, but she doubts he wants to be there that much.

"I think we should check out the spa," she decides. "Get a massage, maybe? You need to relax."

"You're one to talk. I'm pretty sure you carry tension in every part of your body."

"Do you think we can have drinks in the spa? That sounds like the perfect day to me."

"There's a limit to how drunk I'm getting on a work cruise."

"Why?" asks Murphy. "There's no limit to how drunk everyone else gets. You should just lean into it." 

"Much as it pains me to say it, he's not wrong," says Emori. "It would be nice to see you actually enjoying yourself for once."

"I enjoy myself," Bellamy grumbles, and Clarke rolls her eyes.

"Sorry, I'm going with the majority here. Everyone else seems to agree that you need to lighten up and get drunk."

"It's not even noon. I need to ease into day-drinking. Build up my tolerance."

He's smiling, so Clarke doesn't worry she's pressuring him. If nothing else, she thinks relaxing and having a good time on the company-mandated vacation is probably a smart move. He's _supposed_ to be enjoying himself.

Clarke loops her arm in his as they walk. "You're good with this?"

"I think I'll live. Anything more from your mom?"

"No." She sighs. "I wish I knew the right thing to say to her. Like--it does suck she found out like this, but it's not like I was really hiding it from her. We haven't talked in months. I could have called her up to tell her I had a serious boyfriend, but--"

The weirdest thing is that she thinks she wouldn't have, even if she and Bellamy had been going out for nine months. And that's not her fault, really. When you disown someone, you lose any right to getting news about their life in a timely manner.

"You know I'm on your side here," says Bellamy, and she does, which is also in the running for the weirdest thing about her life right now, even if it does make sense. He's a good guy, by all appearances. And he's rooting for her. "I don't think there's a right thing to say because she's acting like you're a normal family, and you're not. My sister does that too, when she calls."

The statement catches her off-guard, mostly because she would have thought she was Bellamy's sister in this story, the kid who left home and doesn't call enough. But it wasn't like her mom didn't give her cause to go. It wasn't like she really put the rift there.

"She calls up after a year and acts like it's been a week," Bellamy goes on, apparently oblivious to Clarke's turmoil.

"I'm the one downplaying it, not her."

"I'm just saying, if she hasn't reached out to you, it's not just you that's the problem. Especially when she's the one who--"

"Yeah." She squeezes his arm. "Anyway, we've got better stuff to do, right?"

"So you claim," he says. "I'm still not convinced."

But it doesn't take long for him to start enjoying himself. They go to the spa and get pampered for a couple hours until it's time for lunch. The ship is full of restaurant options, and they pick one of the ones that's covered with the room to see how it is. Lincoln doesn't join them, and Clarke can't help wondering why, in a firm with plenty of single people, Bellamy's the only one who felt the need to hire an escort.

"You should let me know if you want any alone time," he says, before she can ask about that. Not that she's sure she wants to.

"Alone time?"

"You don't have to hang out with me non-stop. None of the significant others do."

"If I want to do something, I'll tell you, and if you don't want to do it, you don't have to. And the same goes for you. But I don't need a break from your company."

The truth--and weirdness--of the sentiment doesn't fully land for her until that night. They had dinner with Marcus and Charles, along with some of Bellamy's other coworkers, which was surprisingly not terrible, and after Luna drags them to one of the clubs, where she and Bellamy get fairly tipsy, dance a lot, and she takes the excuse to nuzzle his neck so she can finally get a good whiff of his really nice cologne.

It's not exactly a problem, but after a night like that with most of her clients, Clarke would be done. She's kind of an introvert, and being on at parties is always tough, but it doesn't really feel like being _on_ with Bellamy. He's easy to be around, easy to talk to. It's like hanging out with an extremely hot actual _friend_.

"This is nice," she tells him, as they walk back. Between the slight rocking of the boat and the alcohol, she's a little unsteady, and he has his arm around her to keep her vertical. Which is nice too.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I wasn't sure I'd like it, but I do. It's kind of fun."

He laughs, unlocking the door and ushering her into their room. "Ringing endorsement.. But I'm glad it's not torture yet."

"Yet?"

"It could get worse."

She giggles. "You're such a pessimist."

"I'm not. I'm a realist. This is good for now, but we're here for another week. I'm having fun too, but--if you stop, I won't be offended."

She laughs, tugging her sundress off. Bellamy looks away, like he did last night, which is cute, and she sheds her bra while she's at it, finds her nightshirt to tug on before flopping onto the bed. It's _huge_ , large enough she and Bellamy came into zero contact last night, which is only a bit of a shame. He's probably great for cuddling.

"You can turn around now," she tells him.

"I'm actually going to go shower, since I didn't this morning. Do you need anything? Water?"

"Water would be nice."

He fills up a glass and leaves it on the table next to her before he goes into the bathroom. Clarke can hear him moving in there, distant and muffled, the sound of brushing teeth and rinsing his mouth, and then the shower turning on. She closes her eyes, letting the world move under her back, drifting as she waits for him.

She should be tired of him by now, but somehow, she isn't.

"You know why I'm not worried?" she asks, when she hears him come out of the bathroom. "About this whole thing."

"Because you're really drunk?"

"I'm pleasantly drunk, thanks. I could sober up if I needed to."

"Uh huh. Why aren't you worried?"

"The bad thing about jobs isn't _jobs_."

"You want to try that one again?"

"I can be at the best party in the world and I'll still have a shitty time if my client sucks. Being stuck on a boat isn't the problem, it's being stuck with someone. But I'm not stuck with you."

There's nothing for a few seconds, and then Clarke feels the dip of the bed as he sits down on his side, and then lies down. "You're not stuck with me _yet_."

"Is _yet_ your favorite word?"

He snorts. "This week, apparently. But I'm glad you like me so far."

"And we're getting off the boat tomorrow, right?"

She can feel him shifting, getting comfortable as he settles in on his side of the bd. "Yeah. It's basically a resort town, but there are some options for bus tours or something if you want. Or shopping. And there are some company activities."

"Is there any way I can convince you that you don't have to be nervous about this?"

"Good question." She hears his sigh. "I know I'm being weird. I think I'm not good at this whole thing."

"Which part?"

"It's your job to be here, it's not terrible, and I should stop worrying."

Obviously, it's all true, but Clarke can't really bring herself to agree with him. She's had clients who cared about her enjoying herself before, but it always seemed tied to their egos, or to some weird inner turmoil over having hired an escort in the first place, and that's not the vibe she gets from Bellamy. It feels like he'd be worrying she wasn't having fun no matter who she was, like it's a personality trait of his, and kind of a nice one.

"Realistic suggestions only," she teases. "I know you're not going to stop worrying, but it is my job to be here and it's not terrible. I've had way worse gigs."

"Because I don't suck."

"Not yet."

"I'll try not to start."

"Good." She navigates under the covers, and Bellamy does too, and she makes herself roll to face away from him instead of snuggling in. "Night, Bellamy."

He switches off the light and turns on his side too, facing away from her, completely safe from accidental snuggling.

Or he's just more comfortable like that. One of the two. "Goodnight, Clarke."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my work computer saved the day and I could recover my lost words SO here you got! CW for allusion to Clarke worrying about sexual assault but nothing happening to her

"This is actually my least favorite part of cruises," Bellamy admits, squinting in the sun.

"That seems like a hotly contested title."

"I don't mind being on the boat, but I feel awkward going to the resort towns. I worked in a Hard Rock Cafe in high school, I remember how much I hated tourists."

Clarke considers this carefully. She's wearing a big pair of sunglasses and a floppy hat, and she looks weirdly gorgeous. Not that she's not always gorgeous, but he hadn't expected this outfit to really show it off.

He also should not be thinking she's gorgeous, but there's only so much he can do about that. It's an involuntary reaction to reality.

"I get that," she says, slow, "but I don't totally get why being on the boat is better. We're still tourists on the boat. Unless I just ruined the boat for you."

He laughs. "I don't know, I guess I feel like the people on the boat signed up for it more. I assume they hate me too, but at least they knew they were moving to a cruise ship to deal with drunk assholes."

"We need to work on your general belief that service professionals secretly hate you," she says, thoughtful, and he knows she's not just talking about tourists, even if she can't be clearer with everyone else around. "It's not like you can avoid ever buying stuff, so all you have to do is not be a dick. Which you're not. At least not to service professionals."

"Yeah, I save that for friends and family." He takes her hand, which might be his favorite part of this whole thing. Casual intimacy is nice. "So, what are we doing today?"

Over breakfast, Clarke studied the both the program for the cruise ship and the one just for Pike and Associates. Bellamy warned her they were mostly the same, with Charles highlighting the options he felt were most exciting and starring the ones he was personally planning on doing. Anyone who wants face time with the boss on this trip can get it, and Bellamy's planning to eventually, but he's pretty sure that spending time with his girlfriend will do him as much good as spending time with Charles. Every time Bellamy sees him, in fact, he seems delighted that Bellamy is having a good time. 

Most of the times Bellamy sees him, he's also with Marcus Kane, which might be contributing to his general desire to not hang out.

"I'm not big on shopping," says Clarke, which doesn't surprise him. "But Luna's going snorkeling, that sounded fun. You up for it?"

He has to smile. "I can't believe you're already better at this than I am."

"At what, reading brochures and talking to your coworkers about their plans? I can't believe it either, it's really not hard. You're setting the bar so low."

"It's possible I haven't been putting a lot of effort in."

"Shocking." She gives his hand a squeeze. "I just want us to have fun, okay? This is supposed to be fun."

"I'm having way more fun than I ever have before," he says, honest, and remembers to look around and make sure Charles isn't close by.

He isn't, but Marcus is, not close enough to overhear, but close enough to make eye contact with Bellamy, an unintentional invitation that Kane takes him up on.

It's probably fine.

"Good morning Clarke, Bellamy."

"Morning," says Bellamy. "How was your night?"

"Fairly uneventful. Charles and I went to one of the shows, I turned in early. How about you two?"

"I'm trying to convince Bellamy that you're supposed to get business drunk on business vacations," Clarke says. "I'm better at it than he is."

"It probably helps that it's not business for you."

It's not true, of course, but it's not like he can tell Marcus that. And it's not like Clarke is getting rated on job performance. Not that he is either, but--

It's not a good thing to be thinking about; Bellamy drags his brain away from that one. 

"I don't think Charles minds that we take advantage of the cruise amenities," he says, refocusing on the conversation at hand. "He did bring us on the cruise."

Clarke taps her jaw, thoughtful. "That would actually be a pretty awesome mind game. Bring all your employees on an cool trip full of temptation, and the one who ignores all of the fun stuff and focuses is the chosen one. Then again," she adds, smirking at him over her shoulder, "if that was the plan, you would have won years ago."

"Shut up," he says, without any heat. "I have fun."

"Tons of fun. We're going snorkeling," Clarke tells Marcus. "What about you?"

"I hadn't decided. Would you mind if I came with you?"

The question is careful, but his face is open, and Bellamy, at least, believes that if Clarke says no, he won't be offended or even take it personally. It's hard to tell if Clarke has the same belief, but she does feel okay thinking it over, and then saying, "Of course not."

A few others from the firm come along, no one other than Luna that Bellamy is very close to, but a big enough group that it's not just him and Clarke and Clarke's stepdad making awkward conversation. He doesn't know what the others know about the situation, but he assumes the rumor rushed around the employees-- _Bellamy's girlfriend is the potential new partner's estranged stepdaughter_ \--and everyone is probably at least tangentially aware of the situation.

It's not what he would have chosen for the annual cruise, but it's not bad. Certainly not boring. 

They end up spending the whole day with Marcus, snorkeling before lunch and then boating after. From Bellamy's perspective, it's a nice, pretty chill day, and from what he can tell, Clarke's doing fine too. But he's still anxious to check in, to make sure she's doing okay, and he's trying not to feel weird about it. He and Clarke are, for the next week, allies. It only makes sense to worry about her, to make sure she's doing well, that she's not having problems.

It's an easy thing to tell himself, but not an easy thing to believe in the evening, when they're back on the ship. The sky is going dark, the stars are coming out. They have drinks, but they're not drunk, just warm and loose, Clarke leaning back on his chest, an overwhelming amount of closeness.

"This is my favorite thing on the cruise," he says, before he can stop himself.

"The way we're not interacting with anyone who's paid to deal with tourists all the time?"

He assumes the slight pause was her trying to figure out a way to phrase that without including herself in the people who are being paid to be here. Which is kind of cute.

"That too. But more just--night. Out here in the middle of nowhere, I can actually see the stars. Or I'll be able to, once it gets a little darker."

"I didn't think of that. I was too drunk last night." She twists around to grin. "Is that why you don't get drunk?"

He leans down to kiss her without really thinking about it, a soft press of lips that feels so natural he doesn't remember until it's done that it's actually the first time he's kissed her on the lips. And it shouldn't be a problem--they're in public, Charles and Marcus are close enough to see them, and this was within the bounds of what he was allowed to do--but it still feels a little staggering and stupid.

He likes her too much to be kissing her, honestly. But she looked so perfect. And her smile doesn't waver for a second.

"Maybe I don't need alcohol to have a good time."

"I don't _need_ it, I just like it." She settles back in more comfortably against his chest, and he buries his face in her hair, inhaling the bright, clean scent. "This is a good level of alcohol for me, though. For looking at the stars. I bet you know all the constellations."

"I try to, anyway. I'll just make it up if I don't."

"Really?"

"What, you think I can't?"

She shrugs. "You seem like the kind of guy who likes having the answers."

"I do," he admits. "But just looking is enough for me. With the stars anyway."

He feels the contented sigh all through her body, the way she somehow relaxes even further. It might not be real, but it can't all be fake. She has to be pretty happy right now. "Yeah," she agrees. "This is nice."

*

The bed thing is both more and less awkward than Bellamy thought it would be. It's not a struggle to not touch her--the bed is large and he has plenty of room--but it's a struggle just being aware of her, knowing how close she is and how easy it would be to curl around her. He knows he can't, knows he shouldn't, and knows he won't, but none of that knowledge helps with the _want_.

It really hadn't felt like it would be a problem. He'd been sure he would remember that Clarke was a professional, that he was paying her, that none of this was real, and he hasn't forgotten, never forgets it. He thinks she likes him and enjoys hanging out with him, and if they'd just met over the course of the cruise, he thinks they would have gotten along.

He'd also be flirting with her, but whatever.

The main actual consequence of the bed sharing is that no matter how early he wakes up in the morning, he's too self-conscious to go back to sleep, so he's not really getting as much rest as he'd like. The last two mornings, he's at least made it to around eight, but this time, he gets up at six to go to the bathroom, tosses and turns for about fifteen minutes, and then starts worrying that he'll accidentally wake Clarke with his restlessness and drags himself up instead. 

He brought running shorts just to be on the safe side, so he gets changed, finds his headphones, and leaves a note for Clarke that he's going for a jog, just in case she wakes up. He's always liked early mornings on the cruise, in part because he's usually the only one who seems to see them, and this one is no exception, everything bright and clear and empty.

He goes for twenty minutes at a leisurely pace and then stops on the deck, leaning out to take in the nearby coast. They go ashore earlier today, so there's more of a crowd already up, but it's still fairly calm and quiet, a nice break.

"Good morning," says Marcus, smiling as he joins him. 

Bellamy startles, pauses his music and pulls the buds out of his ears. "Marcus. Good morning."

"Up early, I see."

"Woke up, couldn't get back to sleep. You?"

"I'm just in the habit. If I sleep in too long, I feel as if I lost the day."

"Any big plans for Mazatlán?" he asks, flailing for conversation. Just because he likes Marcus doesn't mean he has much to say to him, especially without Clarke around. He's not really worried he'll say anything he shouldn't, but it feels like encroaching on her life, talking to her stepfather without her. This shouldn't be about him.

"Charles has a plan for us. What about you and Clarke?"

"We were going to check out the historic district," he says. "Maybe the aquarium, if we have time."

Marcus leans forward, wind ruffling his hair as he gazes over the water. "How's she doing with this? If you don't mind my asking."

It's not that hard, getting in the right mindset to answer. It's not actually that different from reality; he likes and cares about Clarke, and if they were really dating, he'd probably be having this same broad conversation. He just wouldn't be second-guessing himself in the same ways. He'd be finding other reasons.

"She'd be happier if you weren't here," he finally says.

Marcus's response is less of a laugh and more of a smile with a sound effect, and Bellamy smiles too. "I guess that's about what I expected. It's hard not to feel like--I think Abby sees this as a chance for me to fix things, to get Clarke back on her side. But I don't think that's really my business, if I'm being honest. The relationship Clarke and I have has nothing to do with her and Abby, except that she's the thing we have in common"

"I think if her mom wants to fix things, she needs to do it herself, yeah."

"I hope she realizes I had no idea," he says, careful. "That she'd be here."

"No one at work knew her name," he says. "Unless you hired a private investigator, you couldn't have known."

Even if he had, he would have turned up something very different, but that's just more proof he had no idea. He would have known there was nothing to find.

"I don't think Abby's gone that extreme yet. I just--I hope this won't make things awkward between us. Any of us. I'm looking forward to joining the firm and working with you."

"I'm looking forward to having you. I think we can keep it professional."

Marcus's mouth twitches. "I think that's a good goal to aim for. Let me know if you're ever struggling with it. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

"Realistic suggestions only," he says without thinking, echoing Clarke's words from the other day. He flashes Marcus a smile. "I'm kind of awkward. But I'll let you know if you're making it worse."

His phone buzzes, and when he fishes it out, he sees Clarke has texted: _Heading to breakfast, meet you there?_

"Duty calls?" Marcus asks.

"Yeah, we want to eat before we go to shore." He hesitates for only a second. "You want to join us?"

He shakes his head. "No, I already ate. Have a nice day. Tell Clarke--well, I assume you're just going to tell her exactly what I said."

"That's the plan, yeah."

"Then just have a nice day," he says, and Bellamy smiles. He does like the guy; he's pretty sure Clarke does too. It's just awkward, all the time.

"Yeah, you too."

***

"So your ideal vacation is just wandering around ruins, right?"

"Not just ruins," Bellamy says. "These aren't ruins."

Clarke bites back a smile. "I said ideal, not current."

"I just like feeling like I'm in a real place, you know? Somewhere that has an identity."

"Have you considered not living so close to Hollywood?"

"But then what would I complain about?" For a long second he's quiet, but Clarke's got a good enough sense of him by now to know he's not done. "I think what I like is people. That's what interests me. I like history because I get to see what it used to be like. Cruises and resorts, they're all about things, stuff you can do. Even if it's fun stuff, it doesn't stick with me, you know?"

Clarke has come to the conclusion that Bellamy Blake is stupid cute. It's actually a problem, how cute he is, at this point. He doesn't need to be this cute, and he just keeps getting cuter. 

She can't stop thinking about kissing him again.

"So, what's the last actual vacation you went on?" she asks.

"I went to Italy for Christmas."

"How was it?"

He glances at her sidelong, clearly making up his mind about how honest he should be. She smiles back, open and interested, until he folds.

"I started going on trips for Christmas after my sister took off. I thought it would--I wanted to feel like I was doing something cool. It doesn't work, but I keep doing it. It's fun, but I mostly just know the whole time that I'm avoiding spending Christmas at home alone."

She wants to kiss him _so much_. It's really annoying.

"I think that's probably why I still do holidays with my mom," she says, instead of kissing him. "Because if I don't, then I'm _not_ spending Christmas with her, or anyone else. And I've had friends offer, but it's--"

"Not the same."

"No. It worked in college, but not after that."

He clears his throat, like he's gearing up for something, but all he actually says is, "Have you heard any more from your mom?"

"She texted to ask how it was going, I haven't replied yet." She bites her lip. "Actually, you want to take a selfie? She'd like to see you."

"Do you want her to see me?" he asks.

"If you don't mind."

He makes a frustrated sound and looks around, trying to see if anyone they know is in sight. As far as she knows, no one else was coming here at the same time as them, but it's still something of a risk to overtly discuss.

"I just want to do whatever is going to help you most. This one isn't about me."

"Selfie," she says, hooking her arm around his neck decisively. He smiles at her phone and she does too, and she snaps a few pictures, a collection of bright vacation pictures she shouldn't actually be showing anyone.

She texts one to her mother with the caption _Sightseeing!_ and then sends it to Roan with no comment for good measure. She'd thought about telling him what was going on, to get advice, but every time she was about to do it, she realized she didn't actually have anything to _ask_. She feels like the situation is pretty much under control.

He's going to be pissed at her, but that's fine. It's her life, and Roan's still getting paid. She'll do Bellamy's discount out of her cut.

"It's not like Marcus couldn't show her a picture of you," she points out, low. "There's no way to get out of this at this point without everyone here thinking we're really together."

"I know. I just don't want it to be a pain for you."

"For me?"

"I signed up for this. I had a plan. You weren't even supposed to be using your real name, and now your mom is getting selfies."

"It's a cute selfie. You want it too?"

For a second, she thinks he's going to keep arguing, but it doesn't last. He ducks his head as a grin breaks on his face.

"Yeah, please."

She gets the response from Roan while she's sending the message to Bellamy-- _I'm glad you're enjoying yourself_ \--and she slides her arm into his, still smiling. "Okay, what next?"

*

Back on the cruise ship for dinner, Clarke does kind of get Bellamy's point. It's fun and kind of cool, this floating city that exists just for their enjoyment, but it doesn't feel like a real place. Which isn't the worst thing in a vacation, but it's not her first choice, either.

"Did Bellamy take you to all the old churches he likes?" Murphy asks at dinner. "We went sightseeing with him once, but we learned."

"Maybe I'm dating him because I like old churches," she says.

"In that case, congrats on finding your soulmate, I look forward to saying I can't come to your wedding because I have a thing."

"Planning that one very far in advance," says Luna. "Does anyone have plans for tonight? I was thinking of going back to the club."

"Trying to find that girl again?" Lincoln teases.

Bellamy perks up. "There's a girl?"

"Anyone old enough for me to be interested in is a _woman_ ," Luna corrects. "But yes, there is a woman. I might actually have a cruise fling, for once."

"So you're definitely coming to check that out," says Emori. "I've never witnessed Luna flirting, I don't want to miss out."

"I'm not going to do it in front of you," she says. "But feel free to come along and try to spy on me to improve your game."

"Lincoln's the only single person here, I don't think anyone else needs to up their game." Bellamy turns his attention to Clarke, smile hopeful. "What do you think, club or back to the room?"

"Club's good. I definitely want to spy on Luna."

Bellamy, of course, is still Bellamy, so he double-checks when they go back to the room, but Clarke's actually a little excited for the club. The first time they went, she mostly just drank and yelled with Lincoln about art history while jumping up and down in vague time with the music.

Which was fun, but she'd much rather actually dance with Bellamy. That sounds great.

"I like your coworkers and I like dancing," she assures him, which is kind of a lie on both fronts, but not a _total_ lie. His coworkers are fine, dancing is fine, but he's the real draw. But when she says, "We're going to have fun," she really does believe that.

"Speak for yourself," says Bellamy, tugging off his t-shirt and giving her an excellent view of firm, toned abs as he finds and pulls on a button-down instead.

"Not a good dancer?"

"Not the best."

"It can still be fun. Did you want me to give you an excuse to get out of it?"

"No, I just like complaining." He flashes her a smile. "You think we can agree that if we don't want to do something, we'll just say it? At least when we're alone?"

"I can agree to that. I want to go dance."

"Cool. Then I want to go with you."

They use their free drinks on two shots each, because being sober in a loud nightclub is one of Clarke's nightmares, and then they find Murphy and Emori on the dance floor, settling in to do the weird group dancing that happens early in the night, before everyone gets sloppy and horny.

And, okay, Clarke's not really _planning_ to get sloppy and horny. She's planning to get close, maybe do a few slow songs pressed up against his chest, but Murphy is paying for drinks and Luna really _is_ flirting with a cute woman, and she's sloppy before she knows it, and Bellamy is too, and they settle into a rhythm that would be, with anyone else and under any other circumstances, the prelude to a hookup.

But everyone else is doing it too, so she's fine, probably. There are people making out on the dance floor, so she can slide her hand into his hair, and he can twitch his fingers under the hem of her shirt, pull her closer, and she can kiss him.

Like anyone would, in her place.

Bellamy tenses for a second and she nearly pulls away, but then his fingers spasm against her hips and dig in, and his mouth presses back against hers and she just--kisses him, closed-mouth and slow, more romantic than the desperate, heated exchanges surrounding them.

Not on purpose, obviously. They agreed on the no tongue rule, and they're still following it, so the chastity of their kisses is because this isn't real, not because--

Bellamy nips her bottom lip and Clarke groans and then they're _kissing_ , wet and deep, Bellamy's thigh between her legs, his chest firm and his mouth hot, and Clarke can't quite think.

He still can, though, because he pulls back, eyes looking her up and down, his expression a mystery through the alcohol.

"Want to go back to the room?"

His voice is low and husky, but Clarke knows the real message here. He's telling Murphy and Emori that they're leaving and getting them both out of a situation that was getting out of control. Or at least going farther than it was supposed to. It was an appropriate time for making out, but there's no reason for them to keep doing it.

Except that it's fun, obviously. But it's not really a good enough reason.

"Yeah," she says.

No one seems surprised that they're going, and no one follows them, which is nice too. Bellamy takes her hand to lead her out and keeps holding it as they make their way back to their cabin in not even very awkward silence.

He's the one who finally asks, "Want to go up to the deck? Look at the stars again?"

"Yeah, that sounds nice."

Outside, the air is a little cool, salty and refreshing, and Clarke takes in cleansing lungfuls. It's not like anything bad happened, not like she did anything wrong or upset Bellamy, but she needs to remind herself not to do it again.

She's not usually the person who needs to be told that this isn't real.

"Charles," Bellamy murmurs, as they approach the deck chairs. The light is low, but there aren't many people around, so she doesn't have any trouble spotting Bellamy's boss, leaning against the railing. They haven't seen that much of him over the last few days, but Bellamy doesn't seem to think that's anything to worry about, so Clarke hasn't been.

"Should we say hi?"

"If you don't mind."

"Remember the new rule?"

He smiles. "Then yeah, let's go see him."

Charles looks up as they approach, smiles and raises his glass, something dark on the rocks. "Good evening. How are the two of you doing?"

"A little tipsy," Bellamy admits, an understatement that doesn't feel like a total lie. Clarke drank a lot, but the kissing and its aftermath sobered her up.

"Good. It's nice to see you having fun for once."

"I always have fun."

"I know this isn't your favorite event," Charles says, tone teasing. "And I appreciate that you always come out. But I'm glad you've got someone to share it with this year." He takes a sip of his drink. "You know, I met my late wife on a cruise ship."

Clarke didn't, of course, and judging from Bellamy's expression, he didn't either. "Really?" he asks.

"The summer after my junior year of college. I was working on a liner that did trips to the Caribbean, she was on vacation with her sorority. As soon as I was back on land full-time, I looked her up and got a real date. We did our honeymoon on a ship, and we always made sure to come out once a year. Which is why I started inviting everyone along when I started my own firm."

"Yeah, who doesn't want the whole office along on their romantic getaway?" Bellamy asks, and Charles laughs.

"We have fun, don't we?"

"We do."

"And you two are having fun?" He turns his attention to Clarke, face softening a little. "I hope it's not too awkward for you. Marcus told me some about--I know this wasn't what you were expecting."

He doesn't know the half of it, but her smile still comes easily. "Yeah," she says, meaning it. "I'm having a blast."

***

Bellamy doesn't wake up as early the next morning, but it's still earlier than he'd really like, just after seven with the ship not docking until nine. For a few minutes, he just lies on his back, reliving last night's truly awesome makeout session, but he doesn't let himself dwell on it any longer than that. He and Clarke didn't really talk about it, but it's not as if there was much to say. It's easy to get carried away in a kiss, and they did. It was playing with fire to begin with, going to the club, and he was a dick for nipping her lip, but she didn't seem to mind, so it's probably overall a no harm, no foul situation. 

He rolls out of bed and gets changed into his jogging stuff again, does a circuit around the deck to clear his head. The sky is already looking threatening, and when he checks the weather on his phone during a break, it confirms that it's supposed to rain all day.

Well, they were planning to find some museums anyway. Now they won't even look like nerds.

Clarke is sitting up in bed when he gets back, studying her phone, but her smile when she looks up is bright and untroubled.

"Morning," he says, pulling out his earbuds.

"Morning. How was the run?"

"Uneventful. Looks like it's supposed to rain pretty much non-stop."

"Maybe we just don't go ashore today," she muses, flopping back onto the bed like she was just waiting for an excuse to stop being vertical. "We could just hang out here. Hit the pool, relax a little?"

"Charles is going to be so disappointed," he teases.

"You can blame it on me, I don't mind. Or we can go, I don't mind that either. But I get kind of peopled out sometimes."

"No, it's fine. Do you want me to go?" She sits up, frowning, and he clarifies, "If you want to be alone, I can say you're not feeling well or something. I don't mind."

"No, you don't have to go. If staying in sounds good to you--"

"It sounds amazing," he admits. "When it's just me, I feel weird saying I'm skipping out on stuff, but if you don't want to go either, it's not like I'm being anti-social." He can't help a grin; a whole day relaxing with Clarke sounds _perfect_. "I need to shower, but you want to order room service first?"

"You read my mind."

They put their order in, and by the time he's out of the shower, the food has arrived. Clarke has switched from her long nightshirt to a tank top and a pair of tiny flannel shorts, and he can see a bra strap sliding down her shoulder. It's simultaneously good knowledge to have, that she's wearing a bra, and distracting to know that it's sky blue. 

"Do we need to talk about last night?" Clarke asks.

"I didn't think so," he says. "But if you do, we can."

"I wanted to make sure I didn't cross any lines for you."

He grabs his food and settles in next to her on the bed, getting his food set up while he thinks over his answer. It's strange, coming to realize that Clarke's just as nervous about screwing this up as he is, that they both think that they were at fault, if anyone was.

"Assume no news is good news. You're doing great, Clarke. If there's some kind of escort yelp, I'll give you five stars."

"There isn't, but you can tell Roan I'm awesome if you want," she says, grinning, and he finds himself wondering. Which isn't surprising--he's been wondering about her and her job since they met--but he thinks she might actually be willing to talk now.

"Can I ask about that?" 

"Which part?"

"Escorting. I'm curious."

"Sure."

He pokes at his eggs. "Do you really like it?"

"I like it better than any of the other part-time jobs I've had. It gives me more freedom to do the stuff I really want to do, the ratio of work to pay is pretty good, and it's mostly just a night or two at a time."

"Except for this."

"And long weekends."

"Worst client?"

"The guys who are always pushing the rules. The ones who try to grope me and when I call them out, they apologize and a minute later, they're doing it again. I don't mind awkwardness or genuine screwups, but--the assholes who think _no_ is negotiable suck."

He takes a moment to figure out the phrasing. "Don't you worry one of them will just ignore it all together?"

"Yeah. But it's usually--I trust Roan, I guess. I know he vets people, and he's good at it. You're actually an exception."

"I am?"

"Usually, he wouldn't send someone on a trip like this for their first assignment. He'd make you do a test run."

"He should have for me too. Not--I wouldn't do anything, but there are plenty of guys who act one way with men and not with women."

Her smile is soft as she looks at her plate. "It could have gone really badly, yeah. But I would have bailed after lunch, if I needed to. And the fact that you suggested it was nice."

"I'm trying not to worry about this," he admits. "Your whole job."

"I get it. It's not--I take care of myself, but something bad could still happen. All the precautions in the world can't guarantee things will be okay. Sometimes I think about quitting."

"Yeah?"

"The better my art does, the more I want to figure out how to do that full-time. But I feel like if I stop doing this, I'm jinxing it or something."

"Wouldn't Roan take you back? If you asked."

"Probably." She finishes up her meal and sets the plate aside, stretching out on the bed. "Not to get too stupid rich girl about it, but I think part of it is just spiting my mom. She'd hate it if she knew I was doing this."

"Yeah, it doesn't seem like very good spite if she doesn't even know."

"I know."

He lies down next to her, staring up at the ceiling. "Thanks for taking a chance on me. I don't know what I would have done on this trip without you."

"You do. You would have done the same thing you always do on this trip."

"I guess. And it would have been fine, but--this is so much better."

"Yeah, well, I had a good feeling about you," she says, easy, and it warms him down to his toes.

*

Like most right-thinking people, Bellamy's always hated people who say they need a vacation from their vacation, but apparently he's now one of them. Granted, he's less _on vacation_ and more on a weird work trip with a date he paid for but really likes anyway, but still. It's amazing to him how much he needed the day to not care about extracting maximum value from this experience, to not stress about amusing Clarke or coming off well to Pike or his other coworkers. Instead, he settles in with a book and Clarke settles in with her tablet, and he manages to read for a full half an hour before he gets distracted, leaning over to look over her shoulder.

"Hi, creeper," she teases.

"Sorry, just curious. You're the one drawing in front of me. What are you working on?"

"Commission. Someone wants me to draw their OTP making out, which is always fun."

"Yeah?"

"Well, depending on the OTP." She pauses. "I can't tell if you know what an OTP is or if you just don't want to admit that you're not down with internet slang."

"Neither, actually. I'll be the first to admit I usually suck at internet slang, but my sister was in the Harry Potter fandom for a while, so I've got OTP. What's the fandom?"

Clarke settles into his side, walking him through the request and her fulfillment process, and it's kind of awesome. He likes art in this vague, general way, as something to look at, but he has absolutely no natural artistic talent, and the whole thing is as mysterious to him as a foreign language. But it's cool watching the lines turn into people as Clarke works, like seeing someone doing actual magic.

They go to one of the for-pay places for lunch, grab a drink and some fancy food, and once they've digested they head to the pool. It feels weirdly like a date, more than anything else they've done, somehow even more than making out. It feels _honest_ , and Bellamy knows he should shy away from that, but he can't, quite. The woman he's spending time with might not be the _real_ Clarke, but he thinks she's pretty close.

And he likes her. He likes her so fucking much.

**Me** : Were you betting I was going to develop a crush on my escort

**Miller** : jfc  
I was wondering why I hadn't heard from you

**Me** : It's awkward texting about someone when they're with you  
And we've been pretty much joined at the hip

**Miller** : so where is she now?

**Me** : Her bathing suit was chafing a little so she went to go see if she could find a better one  
I figured I shouldn't go with her on that one

**Miller** : I know you know she's a hired professional  
but I'm still reminding you that she's a hired professional  
it's her job to act like she likes you

**Me** : I know  
It's a little more complicated than that  
But I know

**Miller** : every dude who has ever thought a paid professional is into him thinks it's "more complicated"  
spoiler, it's not  
you paid her to be your girlfriend

**Me** : I did  
But I could give her my number after we're done, right?

**Miller** : you've got nothing to lose at that point  
you're not going to see her either way  
but don't get your hopes up

**Me** : She's really cool

**Miller** : I should have just come with you

**Me** : I tried to warn you  
I am having fun  
Way better than last year

**Miller** : glad having a thing for your paid escort is spicing up your life  
don't be a dick  
don't make her uncomfortable  
keep your boner to yourself

**Me** : I'm actually doing all those things  
Believe it or not

**Miller** : I believe it  
keep doing it  
just a couple more days and you're done

The reminder is actually bracing. They have two more days of sailing and then they'll be home on Saturday morning, and he'll have almost the whole weekend to get back to his normal life, to get used to the status quo that already feels unfamiliar.

"Get a grip," he tells himself, firm. "You haven't even known her for a week. It's not a big deal."

Then he texts Miller, _Yeah, can't wait_ , and pretends it's true.

***

Marcus and Charmaine are sitting at the bar by the shops, and Clarke could leave without talking to them so, so easily. Neither of them has noticed her, their attention fully on each other, and some small part of her brain can't help wondering if they're having an affair. But Charmaine is married and her husband is here, and Clarke can't imagine they're stupid enough to be carrying on at the bar on a trip he's on, let alone a trip that Clarke herself is on.

Right on cue, Charmaine's husband joins the two of them at the bar, and Marcus looks away from their kiss, directly at Clarke.

Honestly, she's not even that upset about it. When she raises her hand in greeting, he smiles, excuses himself, and comes over to see her.

"You guys came back early?" she asks. This is their longest stop as well as their last, and she was expecting things to still be pretty quiet while everyone made the most of being on shore.

"With all the rain, it seemed more appealing to be inside. What about you?'

"We never went out. We had a lowkey day in the cabin."

He nods. "He seems like a good guy, Bellamy. Your mother has been texting me non-stop for information about him."

"What have you been telling her?"

"Charles says he's an excellent employee and on track for promotion soon. All of his coworkers seem to like and respect him, and they think you're good for him. Apparently he has a reputation for taking things too seriously and you lighten him up. Your mother thinks it's funny that you're supposed to be a good influence on him, since you _also_ have a reputation for taking things too seriously."

Clarke has to smile. "It's easier to tell someone else they need to take a break than it is to take a break on your own."

"That's what I told her. If anyone should understand that, it's Abby. I told her you're doing well, and you seem happy, and she says she's glad."

The feeling that coils in her stomach isn't exactly guilt, but it's a relative, a second cousin, maybe, or even a stepchild. She didn't set out to lie to her mother or Marcus, it just happened, and now her mother has this vision of her life, the girlfriend of a kind, smart, _good_ guy, a successful lawyer who's going to be working with Marcus. Abby probably has this whole fantasy already worked out where she'll get to know Bellamy, and then Clarke, and they'll have dinner together, do double dates, and she'll be a part of Clarke's life again, like it wouldn't be as easy as calling her up and asking about her art, asking about her life.

It's not going to work, and that's a conversation she and Bellamy are going to have to have. They should have been setting up a breakup, should have been trying to lay the groundwork for how this trip had ruined them as a couple, so that when Marcus asked, Bellamy would have an easy story about what had happened.

They still should, for all Clarke's whole being revolts against the idea. She wants to spend these last few days of togetherness having fun, enjoying Bellamy's company, because she _does_. She's not sure she's ever taken to someone as quickly as she's taken to Bellamy, and if not for Marcus and Abby, she'd be looking for a way to spend more time with him after this. She might actually _ask him out_ , and she hasn't thought that about anyone in a long time, let alone a client.

But it would be such a pain for Bellamy. It's already way too complicated. Fighting would be easier for everyone.

"I am doing well," she tells Marcus, who doesn't deserve to deal with her incoherent meltdown. "Bellamy's great."

"He seems to be. And you're great too. He's lucky to have you."

Clarke has to smile. "We can just say nice things about him for now. I know you already think nice things about me."

"I'm just saying that I'm happy for you. Both of you. It's good to see you both doing so well."

"I'm happy for us too. And I should probably get back to him before he decides I fell overboard getting a new bathing suit."

"Do the two of you have dinner plans?"

"Not yet."

"Would you be interested in joining me?"

"We could do that. When? Where?"

They make plans to meet back up at the steakhouse in an hour and a half, which Clarke figures is plenty of time for an awkward conversation with Bellamy about how and when they want to end their fake relationship. They could maybe even start tonight, coming up with some disagreement to have over dinner. There is, after all, no time like the present. They've been a happy couple for long enough.

Bellamy's still stretched out on the bed when she gets back, reading his book and looking like he should be photographed for promotional materials for the cruise line. He really is unfair.

"Hey, find a suit?" he asks, smiling, and she holds up the bikini top.

"Yup. I think the old one was just getting small, I've had it for a while."

"That one's nice."

"Thanks. I also saw Marcus, I told us he could buy us dinner. We're meeting him at the steak house at seven-thirty."

"Sounds good."

She lets out a long breath. "We probably need to talk about--what happens after this."

"After what, exactly?"

"Marcus was telling me how happy my mom is for us. I think she's probably going to want him to try to get to know you and maybe use you to get close to me, so--I assume you want to tell him we broke up pretty soon."

His expression sobers, and he sits up straight, looking at her. "Yeah, I figured. But I don't think he's joining the firm right away, so I've got some time."

She takes a seat on the corner of the bed, facing him. "But we should figure out what you're telling him. Why we broke up, when we broke up, all the details. I'm worried we're being too convincing."

"That's what you're worried about?"

"You don't really want people to be that disappointed when they find out we broke up, and everyone seems to think we're a great, happy couple."

"You want us to have a fight?"

"I don't know. I don't want you to have to be dealing with my family pressuring you about me for months, that's not--"

He rubs his face. "If you say this isn't what I paid for, I swear to god."

"It's _not_. I know--getting reminded you're paying me sucks, I get that. Everyone hates thinking about it. But you are, and I'm performing a service that's been complicated by my stuff that has nothing to do with you. This is actually a valid thing for you to be thinking about."

"I don't care, Clarke. Trust me, I remember I'm paying for this, and I'm good. I did the math, I can afford it, and you're worth every penny I'm giving you. You're the one who has to deal with your real life coming here, you're the one who has repercussions."

"You have repercussions too, you're going to have Marcus asking about me all the time."

"So I'll tell him you're doing fine and then at some point I'll say we broke up. If you want to give me a timeline, I'll stick to it, but I don't want to spend the last two days of this trip pretending to have a fight with you and dealing with that aftermath. _We broke up last month, it was amicable_ is way easier to deal with. And more fun."

"I guess so, yeah."

For a second, he just studies her, and then he puts his book aside, comes over to sit next to her, putting his arm around her. "I want to do whatever's going to be easiest for you, okay? But if you're thinking about what's easiest for me, not doing anything dramatic on the ship is good."

Clarke leans against him. "I just don't want you to get sucked into accidentally agreeing to coming for Christmas or whatever."

"We have established that my Christmas plans usually suck. Unless you're a completely different person off the clock, I won't be upset if I have to see you again. If you want me to get dinner with you and your mom and Marcus, I don't mind. Spending time with you isn't really a hardship."

The surprise isn't his saying it, but that she believes him. If she called him up and asked him to come to dinner with her mother, she really thinks he'd say yes.

"Why did you kiss me?" she finally asks, knowing it's a terrible idea.

"You kissed me," he points out, automatic. "But I kissed you back because I wanted to."

"What if we just didn't break up after this?" 

The question hangs in the air for a second, just long enough for Clarke to really think about the fact that she said it, and she meant it, the fact that she really _doesn't_ want that, that she wants Bellamy to keep being a part of her life, that she thinks he really _could_ be. It hangs just long enough for her to realize how much it matters, and then Bellamy pulls back, slides his hand under her chin, and waits until she smiles before he kisses her again.

Bellamy is still a good kisser, slow and deliberate, happy to take his time with just the slide of mouths together. It's been a long time since Clarke kissed someone just to kiss them, just because she wanted to, and it's all she wants to do right now, to just not worry about everything.

"Just so we're clear, this has nothing to do with anything," he murmurs.

"No?"

"I like you. It's not about money or Marcus Kane or--I want to do this for real, but just because of you. Just because you're amazing. And we'll figure out if it can work. I was going to say something after the cruise, but I don't want you thinking--"

"Oh." She laughs. "Yeah, that's--same. I really just want to see if this actually works, and get to check you out naked at least once."

"Yeah?"

"From what I've can tell, you look pretty good."

He ducks his head, grinning. "How long until dinner again?"

"It's at seven-thirty, so--"

He doesn't give her a chance to finish, just pushes her down on her back, settling in on top of her for a long kiss. "Probably enough time," he murmurs. "If you want to find out what I look like naked."

She tugs on the hem of his shirt. "Well, if we're not doing anything else."

***

"I've been trying really hard not to think about this," Bellamy admits, trailing his mouth down Clarke's neck. She's down to just her bra and underwear and he's still wearing his boxers; his desire to get laid is warring with the worry that Marcus Kane will be able to tell, just by looking at them, that they were just having sex.

Which he probably thinks they do regularly, but still. It's polite to not rub it in his face.

"Me too," says Clarke. "But it wasn't working."

"Yeah?" He grins up at her from his position just above her breasts. "What were you thinking?"

She wets her lips. "Honestly? I was thinking I want to blow you."

The moan comes out without his meaning it to. "Really?"

"I haven't been with a guy in a while, I like giving head. What, you don't want me to?"

"If you want to suck my dick, I promise I don't mind," he says. "But do you want to wait until after dinner?"

"You're the one who said we had time now."

"To fool around."

Clarke rolls her eyes. "You thought we were going to get naked and not get off?"

"We're not technically naked."

"I can fix that."

She unhooks her bra and casts it aside, which means he's only dimly aware of her underwear going right after because most of his brain is stuck on her breasts, which are even better than he thought they would be, and even if this whole relationship thing doesn't work out, it had better last long enough for him to have a whole afternoon to grope her.

"Your turn," says Clarke, amused, and he kisses her as he slides his boxers off.

"You're fucking gorgeous."

"I know."

"It's going to be suspicious if we're in our cabin for two straight days, right?"

"Two straight days of sex sounds better than it is. Or easier. We can have morning sex and pre-bed sex and still have plenty of time to socialize."

"It's possible I just want an excuse not to socialize."

She laughs, but it turns into a moan as he presses a kiss against her breast. Her fingers tangle back in his hair, and it's nice to know she _likes_ doing that, and that's probably why she was doing it at the club.

They really do seem to be on the same page.

"I could eat you out," he says, kissing just to the left of her nipple. "And then you could blow me, and then we could shower and go to dinner."

"That sounds like a really good plan," she says, and gasps when his mouth fixes around her nipple, fingers tightening in his hair. "Fuck, best plan."

He doesn't bother responding, since he has so many better things to be doing with his mouth, and instead brings his hand up to play with her other breast, getting familiar with the size and weight of it, testing how Clarke likes to be touched. She seems to like _everything_ , and he can't wait to have enough time to figure out her favorite things.

For now, though, he wants to get her off and still have time to clean up before dinner, so he sticks with her breasts, mouth and hand relentless as she squirms and gasps and arches against him.

"Bellamy, if you don't fucking get me off soon, I'm going to--"

He leans up to peck her lips, quick, and then he slides down, parting her legs. The scent of her arousal is thick in the air, heady, and he kisses her thighs first, trailing his mouth over the smooth skin until she shoves her hand back into his hair to tug him up.

"Before I have to take care of it myself," she says.

"Jesus, you're impatient," he teases, but he does finally relent, swirling his tongue over her clit, making her gasp and groan.

Once he's actually got his mouth on her, the urgency seems to lessen a little, so he takes his time, rubbing his fingers against her entrance without sliding them inside, feeling how wet she is already, how hot.

"Please," she moans, one leg sliding up over his shoulders. "Bellamy, come on, I need--"

His two fingers slide in so easily, like she's been waiting for them, and she gasps again, clenching around him, and he has to resist the urge to grind his hips against the mattress. There's no way he's coming before she can get her mouth on him; he's as eager for that as she is.

She goes inarticulate pretty quickly, which he takes as a good sign, and her communication is reduced to moans and harsh breathing, plus her hand in his hair, going tight enough to hurt a little as she gets close. He strokes his fingers up inside her, relentless, as his mouth works her clit, and she comes with a cry, the orgasm crashing through her whole body.

She's the one to tug him off again, which is cool too; he's here for girls who tell him what they want. He likes being manhandled.

"Good?" he asks, unable to keep a smirk off his face, and she pulls him in for a sloppy kiss.

"I can't believe you're single."

"I'm not, right?"

That makes her laugh. "No, you're not. Give me a minute to catch my breath and then I'm sucking your dick."

"No rush."

"No?"

"I'm pretty sure you're good for it." He flops onto his back, grinning up at the ceiling. "So whenever you're ready."

Clarke rolls onto her side, curling against him, and he feels her fingers skate up the length of his dick. He's hard, but wasn't desperate, not until that first touch, until she reminded him that it's been six month since another person got him off.

"I knew you'd have an awesome dick."

"Thanks for believing in me."

"Do we have condoms in the room or do we need to pick some up?"

"I'm pretty sure those cost extra."

"We should get them before dinner, so Marcus doesn't see."

"Maybe don't talk about your stepdad when your hand is actually on my penis."

She laughs and wraps her fingers around him in earnest, giving him a firm tug.

"I was thinking I'd stop talking, actually."

Without giving him a chance to respond, she leans forward, swirling her tongue over the head of his cock, humming like she likes the taste. Her mouth follows, sliding down to take him in, not all the way, but he doesn't need her to deep-throat him or anything, not when she feels so good. 

"Yeah, he murmurs, letting his own hand tangle in her hair now. "That's good. Fuck, I can't believe you were thinking about this. I wanted to romance you and you wanted to get your mouth on my dick. You're amazing, seriously. I can't wait to be inside you, find out everything you like. I want to spend hours just touching you, until you go out of your mind wanting me."

Clarke moans, takes him deeper, and he keeps on talking, telling her how good her mouth feels, how perfect she is, until he's too close to form words and his voice dies in his throat. Clarke doesn't stop, doesn't even react, and when he tugs her hair to signal he's about to come, she just sucks harder, and he spills into her mouth, watching as she takes it like this is her favorite part.

He hauls her up for a kiss and she straddles his thigh as they make out, rubbing herself against him until she comes again.

"Your voice really does it for me," she admits, like she doesn't realize it's the best thing he's ever heard.

"Good." He kisses her again. "Afterglow for a minute and then shower?"

"Shower, condoms, dinner, sex," she says, content. "And then two more days of this."

Honestly, two days on a cruise ship has never sounded better.

*

"I realized I haven't really asked much about the two of you," Marcus says, once they're seated in the steakhouse. "I don't even know how you met."

"It's actually been kind of nice," says Clarke. She dressed up for this, put her hair up and put on a nice dress, and Bellamy's really glad they sorted out that they're interested in each other, because he can't wait to get her out of that outfit. "I was expecting to have the same conversation a thousand times but everyone's being really polite because they don't want to say the wrong thing. So we haven't really had to talk about it much at all."

"Glad I could help." Marcus takes a sip of wine, a smile playing around his mouth. "So, how did you meet?"

"Do you know Roan Waterford?" asks Clarke.

Bellamy's a little surprised she's using Roan's real name, but Marcus just nods. "Nia's son, right?"

"Yeah. He used to date Bellamy's friend Raven, we were both at the same party and started talking."

"And you said it's been about nine months?"

"Yeah," says Bellamy. "Since February."

"Is this your first trip together?"

"The first real one," Clarke says. "We've done, you know, a couple long weekends, but it wasn't really like this."

"Yeah, between the coworkers and being on a boat, it feels a little like trial by fire."

Marcus smiles. "Well, you seem to be doing pretty well with it."

This would have been the perfect time to set up the breakup Clarke was talking about, the time for an awkward silence and more awkward answers. If they wanted to plant the seeds of unhappiness, they could, right now.

But if they're going to break up, it has nothing to do with this. For now, they're still happy, and he's going to keep it that way for as long as he can. 

Somehow, he thinks they really have a chance.

Clarke must think so too, because she flashes him a smile, gives his hand a quick squeeze.

"Yeah. So far, so good."

*

The last two days on board the ship pass in something of a haze for Bellamy. In public, they're largely the same, hanging out mostly with Emori, Murphy, Lincoln, and Luna, with guest appearances by Gaia, the accountant Luna picked up at the club. They go swimming and drink, and in the evenings they attend Charles's events, usually dinner followed by a show. Even the most determined of office gossips seem to have decided the drama with Clarke and Marcus is minimal, probably because they really do get along pretty well.

"If this ends up with me spending more time with my mom it probably won't be the worst thing," Clarke observes, upbeat, as they get ready for their last night on the ship.

"Really hedging your bets there."

"Realism, right?"She slides into bed and curls up next to him. "You're not the worst thing either."

He kisses her hair. "Thanks." The desire to just enjoy the moment fights with his propensity to fret and, of course, loses. "So, uh--what happens tomorrow?"

"We get back pretty early, right?'

"Yeah, we're offloading at nine."

She bites the corner of her mouth. "I don't even know where you _live_. Do you have roommates? Pets?"

"No roommate, no pets. I'm in Sun Valley."

She grins. "So you didn't move that far from Hollywood. And we're neighbors."

"Yeah?"

"Van Nuys."

"Awesome. What about you? Roommates? Pets?"

"No roommate. I've got a cat, Simon."

"Wait, we've been together non-stop for a week and you haven't showed me any cat pictures?"

"You're right, that was a major oversight." She settles in against his bare chest with her phone, pulling up her saved pictures, and his heart flips when he sees all the ones of him. It's not just the selfies she took for her mom, but pictures of him and Luna in the pool, of him talking to Charles, on stage at the magic show last night, after Emori volunteered him.

But Clarke just keeps scrolling, unconcerned, until she hits all her saved cat pictures, and he doesn't bother mentioning it either.

She likes him. It's not news.

"You can come meet him tomorrow, if you want," says Clarke.

"I need to run some errands," he says. "Get ready for the week. But I'll definitely call you. I'm going to miss you."

The words feel weird as soon as they're out of his mouth, but Clarke only smiles. "It's funny how that works, right? I should be so ready to be on my own, but I'm just thinking about how I'm going to miss having you around all the time."

"Exactly."

She puts her phone away and yawns, settling in against his chest. Sleeping is so much better, now that he's not spending all his time thinking about how he can't touch her. It's a shame they only got a handful of nights like this, but there are more to come.

"So, what happens tomorrow?"

"I'm going to meet your cat. I can bring dinner."

Her smile curls against his chest. "Perfect. It's a date."

***

"My mom already wants to know if you're coming for Christmas."

Bellamy doesn't even pause in putting away the groceries he brought over. In the two weeks since the cruise ended, they've settled into something of a routine; they hang out at Clarke's place because while it's not as nice as his, but she has a cat, and Simon has taken to Bellamy so much that it actually makes her a little jealous. He brings groceries and cooks, because obviously he wasn't perfect enough already, and Clarke does the dishes. They'll watch a movie or have sex, depending on their moods, and he either leaves with a lingering kiss or stays the night and goes to work from her place.

She hasn't officially quit working for Roan yet, but he also hasn't offered her any new jobs. She let him know what happened, the full story, and he laughed so hard she thought he might hurt himself, so she suspects he's giving her some time to think about whether or not she wants to keep working with him at all. It's not as if she has to stop just because she has a boyfriend, but it does feel _different_. And risky, too. It would be so awkward if she showed up at a party on some random person's arm and ran into Charles or Marcus or someone else who knows her or Bellamy.

She's been applying for some part-time jobs, temp and office stuff. The pay isn't as good, but she could probably make it work. And she wouldn't mind aligning her hours with Bellamy's better.

"Are you surprised?" he asks, pulling her attention back. "I sort of saw it coming. It's almost Thanksgiving, I assume she wants to finalize plans."

"I know. I always lose track of time this time of year. She asked about Thanksgiving too, by the way, but I told her we already had plans. Which I do, and I'm sure you're welcome if you want."

"Yeah? What plans?"

"Dinner with my friend Wells and his wife."

"Sounds kind of private."

"You're my boyfriend," she reminds him, gentle. "You belong at events with me."

"What did you tell him about me?"

It's still a little weird, the two versions of their relationship. Roan, Raven, and Bellamy's friend Miller know the truth; Monty knows the lie, with fewer details, just thinks that Clarke has a boyfriend and supposedly has for a while. At some point, when they've been together long enough, it won't matter as much, but for now, it's still kind of a headache.

Worth it, but a headache.

"The truth. He knows what I do, so--"

Bellamy nods. "I usually do Thanksgiving with Raven, she invited you too."

"We could probably go to both. Thanksgiving world tour."

"I could live with that."

"What about Christmas? I realized I didn't know if you'd already booked a trip."

He closes the cabinet and leans against the counter, watching her. "I did, but I can cancel. I always get trip insurance, it should be fine. I was sort of assuming I would."

"Where were you going to go?"

"Ireland."

"Yeah? I've always wanted to go."

"You could come with me," he points out. "Tell your mom we've got plans together. Or I could cancel and we could go another time. Whichever you want."

"You don't have a preference?"

He snorts. "That's a loaded question." She doesn't bother responding, and he shifts, sighs. "I like Marcus. I think your mom will be fine. Touring Ireland with you sounds awesome, but I'm also not planning on this being our only chance to do it. So, yeah. It's your family, your call. If we're ever hanging out with Octavia, I assume you'll defer to me."

Judging by his tone, he doesn't think that's ever going to happen, and Clarke props herself against the counter next to him, kissing his shoulder. "I want to do Christmas with Mom and Marcus," she decides. "But--when are you supposed to be going to Ireland?"

"I don't remember the exact dates. Charles shuts down the office from Christmas to New Year's, so I didn't take any time off, so--whenever we closed to whenever we were going to open again."

"You think we could change the dates? Christmas with my family, New Year's in Ireland?" Her impulse is to keep going, to over-justify, but she makes herself shut up. She's only known him for three weeks, all told, and it feels premature, to be planning a holiday trip together.

But they already know they make good traveling companions, and it's just a circumstantial thing. They got together in later October, and that forces dealing with holidays immediately, especially with Marcus knowing about them. It only feels like they're moving fast because the timing is weird, and their entire relationship is based on deception.

That doesn't mean they can't be solid, though.

"I'd have to check with the airline," he says, showing no signs of thinking it's even a little bit weird. "And the hotel and stuff. But yeah, I think we could probably make that work. Blend our shitty holiday traditions into one."

"Make them better?"

He shrugs. "I think I'll have more fun with you. I hope you'll have more fun with me. That's kind of the point of relationships, right? Date the person who makes everything better just by being around."

He says it so casually, she feels a little bad for how happy it makes her. But he never objects to being tugged down for a kiss. "That sounds really good, yeah. Let's see if we can make it work."

She tells her mother that they'll be there for Christmas while Bellamy figures out how to rearrange his travel plans, books her own flights afterward even though the price makes her wince a little. Bellamy's covering the hotel because he has a more reliable revenue stream than she does and he was already planning to pay the full price himself, so she's still saving a lot on the trip. And it's going to be awesome.

Finally, curled up against him while they watch Netflix, she texts Roan: _I think I'm quitting_.

**Roan** : I assumed as much  
Honestly, I was expecting it as soon as Bellamy chose you for his escort   
I had a feeling you two would get along

**Me** : Good instincts  
I guess you have no one but yourself to blame

**Roan** : Yes, I'm horrified   
I hate nothing more than my friends finding happiness with each other  
I'm filled with regret

**Me** : I knew it  
Thanks for the assist

**Roan** : Happy to help

"Everything okay?" Bellamy asks, shifting a little under her. "Does your mom want us to come for New Year's too?"

"No, it's nothing." 

She turns the phone off, gives him a quick peck on the mouth before she settles in against his chest. Its's still unreal, how happy she feels with him, how much she likes being here. And it still might not last, but that's all the more reason to spend all the time with him she can, to join him for holidays and take trips together. She should be as happy as she can with this, no matter how it turns out. 

"Everything's great," she says, and it really is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention this before because of my rage @ gmail BUT it's that time of year again! open for holiday prompts, check out [this post](https://chasholidays.tumblr.com/post/177619268956/holiday-prompts) for details


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